Pack Hodges

Cyrene-Chapter 6

F$ck, f$ck, f$ck. I find my f$cking scent matches and they smell soooo f$cking good and they hate me? The looks on their faces said it all. Even if I hadn’t overheard their words for me, the expressions they gave me said it all. Then, Hoka walked in and…damn. Who knew betas could smell so good? Like…the first day of fall. Crisp and cool, so cool it tingles your nose. His smell was so subtle other betas would never smell it but to me, he immediately put me at ease. And he was just so kind and funny and…do I have a crush on their beta? God. It’s clear there’s something between him and Cashel. I don’t know how I’m going to survive a month here with three mates that hate me and the most beautiful beta I’ve ever seen.

Cashel was tall with pale skin and rusty brown hair looking like he’d stepped out of an Outlander novel. Simeon was all dark with a tanned complexion, dark hair and dark penetrating eyes that glared at me through black eyelashes that made it look like he had eyeliner on. Easton was all sunshine with golden blonde hair and bright green eyes and intricate tattoos everywhere and oh my god I’m fawning over mates that hate me? Alphas who hate me.

I sat down on my bed with a soft “humph” and put my head in my hands. Sitting up I glance at the windows and look at the skyline. I want to appreciate the beauty before me but I feel so distraught. I never imagined I would find my mates, it never occurred to me to imagine how it would feel. I feel an impossible tug in my chest urging me to go to them, to soothe them, to make whatever is wrong, right. But I know they don’t want me here. I shake off the feeling and commit myself to my original mission: get it, get out, don’t be seen. I never wanted mates, I don’t see why that should change now. So why do I hurt so much?

My thoughts drift to Hoka and the undeniable pull I felt towards him? Is it possible to be fated to a beta? They never taught us anything about that at the OC but of course they wouldn’t. The OC is committed to matching omegas with compatible alphas and even scent matches aren’t guaranteed. The best most omegas can hope for is good smelling alphas who are kind and loving. Not alphas whose very presence brings your soul to life. With the OC so focused on Alpha-Omega dynamics, betas are rarely, if ever, discussed. If they are, it’s in the context of their inferiority almost as if they’re designation deems them an afterthought in our society. But Hoka was anything other than an afterthought. He immediately put me at ease and I can still pick up his scent in my room and suddenly I’m exhausted.

I push myself up the bed towards the headboard and curl onto my side. Maybe I’ll fall asleep and will wake up back in my tiny room at the OC. Maybe this will turn out to be nothing more than a terrible dream. Finding mates who hate me, finding a beta I can never have, having to spend 30 days in their beautiful apartment surrounded by all the things my omega side could ever want but would never admit. I fall asleep with those comforting thoughts.

My eyes blink awake at the soft knock on my door and the city has gone dark around me. How long was I out?

“Cy?”

I hear Hoka’s soft voice sounding tentative and…nervous?

I sit up quickly and scramble off the bed. Rushing towards the door I wrench it open and he blinks several times at me no doubt taking in my messed hair and destroyed makeup. It seems to take him several seconds to find his words. No, you god of perfection, we all do not look stunning all the time.

“You were out all day. Are you hungry?”

My stomach takes that exact moment to give a loud grumble and he cracks a smile.

“I’m going to take that as a yes. Come on, the guys all had to head out.”

I breathe a sigh of relief and follow him down the long hall towards the kitchen and stop when I see a large kitchen table already set for two. My traitor heart stutters at the thought he did this for me but a voice in my head whispers “that’s because he’s a kind person, Cy. Get over yourself.”

“Come on. I made lasagne.”

“You cook?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. The guys can’t do anything domestic so it was either I learn how to cook or we get a cook and I don’t exactly love strangers in my space.”

I wince and offer a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

He looks immediately apologetic and rushes to speak but I hurry to add, “I’ll be gone in a month. I agreed to do this so I could be free of the OC. Marcus Cassabian offered me a lot of money when it’s over to start a real life with and it was the best offer I’ve had in my life. I promise to stay out of the way.” I blurt out much more than I intended and Hoka stares at me.

“You mean you don’t want to be here? You were coerced?”

I hedge, “That’s a strong word. I was given a powerful incentive and the OC isn’t the best place to grow up. Plus I’m 26 and unawakened. My options for the future are limited. It’s not like I can be matched with a pack and the other option would be getting a job which the OC doesn’t train omegas to do.”

He gives me an intense look before responding, “I could teach you how to do some coding if you want…if you have an aptitude for it, it’s pretty easy.”

I’m good with tech, I’ve always been. I don’t tell him I’ve been making websites as a side hustle to support my habit of smut books and online streaming services for years. But something tells me I don’t know code the way he does.

I give him a bright smile and say, “I would love that.”

His face breaks out into a brillant grin that nearly stops my heart, “Perfect, we can start tomorrow. If I only have you for a month, I want to help as much as I can.”

When has anyone besides Mira ever done anything for me without motive? I feel myself blushing and he must sense my discomfort because he says, “Come on. Sit down.”

While we eat we talk about movies, TV shows, books we like. He makes fun of my obsession with shifter novels and I argue that I read Kurt Vonnegut occasionally to balance it out. He tells me he and Cash will watch K-dramas almost every night and I almost choke on my noodle laughing. The meal falls into an easy rhythm and I feel like I’ve been talking to him my whole life. When we’re finally done, I offer to do the dishes.

“I actually want something else from you.”

I’m still waiting for the hammer to drop, worried I trusted him too soon.

“Play a song on the piano for me.”

My whole body perks up at the prospect and I don’t have the decency to even pretend to demure.

He gestures to the beautiful Yamaha piano by the tall windows.

Getting up, my body alight with anticipation, I sit down and gather myself. I don’t need sheet music. Once I play a song once it sticks in my brain like an earworm I don’t want to shake.

Taking a deep breath, I place my fingers on the keys and start the first chords of Vivaldi’s Summer and feel the notes sweep me away from mates who don’t want me, betas with beautiful eyes and the 29 days ahead of me.